Slave of my Master

A poem to discourage against any form of addictions.

                                    SLAVE OF MY MASTER

Nobody seems to understand

I speak to my friends; we can 

even fight over a braai stand,

Is this what we have chosen 

to be I ask myself?

Slaves of our Masters: spineless Fighters.

 

Deep are the thoughts of a man,

Misunderstood are his words, 

what do his hearers say?

Take him badly speak about him 

wherever they go. Why didn't they 

ask him for clarification?

They claim they were afraid.

Is this what we have become slaves 

of our Masters: Gossipers.

 

Pity is laid upon a man who feels for

a criminal. He digs his own pit to be 

buried in. Is a criminal not human even 

if they were Bushmen? Well I guess that’s

who we want to be Slaves of our Masters: 

Judgmental

 

We kill those who educate us

We keep those who dictate over us

Why spare the rod if you will spoil the 

child. We live with hearts filled with stains

Oh! Yes we feel the pains but we don’t care

We claim it had to be done.I guess that’s who

 we’re slaves of our masters:

Against goodness

 

Who is my Master, Who is the slave?

My addictions are my masters, which I need to denounce

Live freely from slavery, it is not nice to live under a spell

The world is a dog eat dog as they say,

When am I going to be a dog to eat my own?

Slave of my masters forgive my tone,

But I’m torn apart and this is where it all ENDS!